Stirred

All those classroom years
spent holding in
straightening out
working toward
a life I never
believed in.

Every day,
a new cage
to claw up,
bear down,
escape from
with my shaking
and bloody hands.

Little me knew better
patting at mud pies
between steady palms,
feeding all the places
set for dinner.

So many places set for dinner.

I thought it was about being the best of all
Now I see it's about loosening the reins of perfection.

A man I loved once
called me his Nightingale -
and it has stirred in me for years.

Where there is art,
share it
Where there is music
play it
Where there is love
spend it
with no regard to what else you should be doing.


Because that might turn out to be where your story begins.